Second Chance
by storywriter713
Summary: Angst, tragedy, and trigger warnings, oh my! Destiel Highschool!AU. Castiel's family is abusive, Dean is the only person nice to Castiel. READ WITH CAUTION, TRIGGER WARNINGS INCLUDE: Graphic non-consensual scenes, abuse, depression (self-harm, suicidal thoughts), major character death, and so many more. Co-written with Daisuki Rose from AO3.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Get ready for an angst fest. There are many triggers, so please read with caution. Co-written with AO3's Daisuki Rose (who writes Dean's POV)._

~storywriter713

Chapter 1

Castiel's POV

Castiel stared down at his Algebra 1 test, his heart beating quickly. With each beat of his heart, the ticking of the clock on the wall got louder. He held a no. 2 pencil in his left hand, tapping it against the side of his desk. _Tap tap tap tap. Tick tick tick tick._ He started sweating under his many layers of clothing; a white tank top, a white button-up shirt, a blue tie, a black suit jacket, and a tan trench coat on his upper body, black pants, boxers, a belt, knee-high black socks, and black, sturdy shoes on his lower. He didn't like to wear so many layers, but he needed to. He also wore trace amounts of makeup on his face, neck, and hands. Otherwise his whole school would know what happened when he was at home.

An old brown clock hung to the right of him. It had seen many years and many students, but none of them as broken as Castiel. From years of watching teachers teach lessons, the clock was smart. It could tell when a student was happy, sad, angry, in love, tired, hurt, paying attention, and so much more. It could tell that the trench coat wearing freshman had physical ailments that caused him constant pain. It could tell from the way he held himself, as if he had a pole strapped to his back; from the way that he walked, his arms always protecting his chest, a slight limp in his gait; from the way that he sat on the edge of his chair, as if he felt the need for a quick escape. The clock knew that Castiel Novak was beaten by his family. It grieved about not being able to let others know so the poor boy wouldn't have to endure any more abuse. It ticked in frustration. _Tick tick tick tick._

 _Splat!_

A wet, squishy object bounced off of Castiel's dark brown hair. He stiffened. _Tick tick tick tick._ He could hear quiet coming from sniggers from behind him. Anticipating more spitballs, he started to tremble slightly. He shared Algebra 1 and most of his other classes with the two biggest freshman bullies. Crowley, the squat, British jerk who nicknamed himself the King of Hell, and Alastair, Crowley's accomplice who had a very annoying nasally voice. Everyone called them the Hell Hounds. The Hell Hounds' favorite person to pick on was the shy and quiet Castiel – something he had grown accustomed to. _Tick tick tick tick._

 _Splat!_

His left hand clenched around his pencil, threatening to break it. He closed his blue eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The Hell Hounds were being generous that day by using their saliva to dampen the paper balls instead of something less civilized. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at question eight of his test. It was a multi-step inequality. –(7c – 18) – 2c 0. Lucky for him, he had actually payed attention in class. He smirked. That was the only advantage he had over Crowley and Alastair: his brains. He told himself what to do in his head.

 _First, you have to write down the equation._ –(7c – 18) – 2c 0. _Okay, Castiel. You know that when there is a negative sign outside of the parentheses, subtracting a negative number from another negative number makes the second number positive._ –7c + 18 – 2c 0. _Negative seven c and negative two c are like terms, so you add them together._ -9c + 18 0. _Now you have to use inverse operations to isolate the variable. Subtract eighteen from both sides to keep the inequality balanced._ -9c + 18 – 18 0 – 18 _, which makes_ -9c -18. _Now to isolate the variable._ -9c / -9 -18 / -9. _That cancels the negative nine. But since you divided by a negative number, you have to switch the greater than symbol to less than, and you'll have your answer. Dividing two negatives makes a positive_. c 2. _Yes! You got it. Good, you showed your work, you know you got it right. On to the next question._

 _Tick tick tick tick._

 _Splat!_

Castiel scowled at his test paper. He glanced at the clock from the corner of his eye. He almost groaned when he saw how much time was left in the class. Twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes of spitballs hitting him. Twenty more minutes of pretending that it didn't bother him. No, he was not going to do that. He looked up at the teacher, hoping that she noticed the spitballs. His shoulders sagged when he saw that Mrs. Harvelle-Singer was too busy grading papers. He looked back at his test, and saw that he only had ten more questions. He could do them in five minutes, maximum. Then he'd be able to get up, hand in his paper, ask for a hall pass, and hide out in his special spot in the library for fifteen minutes until Algebra 1 was almost over. Once he got back, Mrs. Harvelle-Singer would have his paper graded. Yes, that's what he would do.

 _Tick tick tick tick._

Castiel's pencil flew across the paper as he hastily solved all of the inequalities. His hand smeared his work a bit, but that was to be expected; he was left-hand dominant.

 _Tick tick tick tick._

Only five more problems left...

 _Tick tick tick tick._

Two more…

 _Tick tick tick tick._

Done!

Castiel launched to his feet, wincing as the sudden movement pulled at an old injury. The envious eyes of his classmates watched him as he dodged around the first row of desks to Mrs. Harvelle-Singer. He was the first person done with his test, as always. Everybody called him teacher's pet and shoved him inside a locker at least once a week. Although he was standing right in front of his teacher, she was too concentrated on her work. He cleared his throat quietly, causing her to startle and look up at him. The teacher smiled at him, her eyes proud. She took his test and handed him a hall pass. She knew the routine by then. Everyone did. Whenever Castiel finished a test, quiz, or project, he'd ask for a hall pass. He'd always get one, too, and didn't come back until a few seconds before the bell signifying the end of that period rang.

As soon as his fingertips touched the cold plastic of the hall pass, he darted out of the classroom. He navigated the halls easily. He had learned all of the shortcuts and hiding spots by his tenth day at Lawrence High School. He ran at full speed down the halls, his shoes scuffling against the floor. Running rattled his injuries but he didn't care. He rounded a corner and slammed right into something bigger than him. The jolt caused him to cry out in pain, his bruises screaming at his brain to put out the fire. Castiel fell backwards, striking the hard tile floor tailbone first. The jolt rattled up his spine, the ache distracting him from all his other injuries. His vision of the ceiling blurred for a few moments before slowly refocusing. He groaned, his eyes watering.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" a voice asked him. The voice was deep, but still had a boyish tone to it. A head popped into his line of sight. The owner of the voice was a teenager, a little older than Castiel. He had dark blond hair, the color of wet sand. Freckles speckled his cheeks and nose, bringing out his incredibly green eyes. He was pretty good-looking. When the freshman didn't respond, the stranger asked, "Do you have a concussion?"

"I'm fine," Castiel growled. His voice was slightly deeper than the older-looking stranger's.

"No you're not." The stranger's light brown eyebrows furrowed. "Want some help up?"

Castiel sat up slowly but it was still enough to make his head spin. He glared at the teenager. "You seem to know how I am feeling, so why did you even ask me if I'm fine? And no thank you, I'm able to stand up on my own," he said gruffly, not even trying to sound polite.

He used the floor to push himself to his knees. From there he put his hands on a yellow wall and used it to help him balance. He cautiously stood up. His tailbone didn't allow it. His knees buckled from the aching pain that took over. He pitched forward, the off-white tiles rushing toward him in an attempt to break his nose. He was wrenched back into a standing position by what felt like steel bars digging into the bruises on his ribs. He couldn't hold back the cry of fear that ripped through him. The strange teenager was going to hurt him like everybody else did. The steel arms around him quickly went away and Castiel took a breath in, holding it, expecting the blow that was about to come, his eyes closed.

"Let me take you to the school nurse, man. You don't look that good."

Castiel cracked open his left eye. The boy was about a foot away from him, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Once the injured freshman was positive he was not going to get beaten up, he opened his eyes all the way and nodded. He flinched at the headache that ensued. The blond boy opened his mouth to offer to help, but Castiel just waved him off. He took a tentative step forward and yelped at the pain in his tailbone. The next thing he was aware of was his nose buried in a leather jacket that smelled really nice. He looked up and saw green eyes filled with worry looking down at him.

"Sorry," Castiel mumbled, his face red.

He tried to move away from the stranger, to no relent; the teenager wouldn't let him move. The boy was only a couple inches taller than the freshman, so he wrapped Castiel's left arm over his shoulders.

"My name's Dean, by the way. Dean Winchester. I'm a sophomore. How 'bout you?" the blond boy said.

"Castiel Novak, freshman," Castiel replied.

Castiel blushed when the sophomore wrapped his leather-clad right arm around his trench-coat covered waist. They started walking, Dean half carrying, half dragging him through a few hallways and to the nurse's office. When the freshman wasn't groaning in pain, he was enjoying the body heat he felt from the teenager. Since he wasn't stressing about spitballs hitting his head, he could relax and not overheat. He was a bit chilly in fact. The school didn't have a well-functioning heating system and it was almost winter.

"So, you got a girlfriend who's gonna fuss over you and give you a sponge bath?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Castiel hesitated a bit too long. "No."

Dean looked at him and his smirk grew larger. "Boyfriend?"

"No."

"That sucks, man, but I feel ya. My ex girlfriend, Lisa, dumped me right before school started. Granted, I didn't actually like her that much, but my point still stands," Dean said.

Castiel frowned slightly. Why was Dean sharing that information? He couldn't possibly think that they were friends, could he? He didn't have any friends. He never had. Not even his many siblings could be considered friends. Not even his parents. His mother, Naomi, had always warned him that to trust someone enough to be their friend was to be stabbed in the back. She illustrated her point with a slap, leaving a hand-shaped red mark on his left cheek for fifteen minutes. He secretly always yearned to have someone to trust, to talk to, to call a friend. Castiel decided that he would play along with the friend thing, and accept all the consequences that would occur because of it.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said, his voice deeper than usual with his sincere apology.

Dean smiled at him, perfectly white and straight teeth gleaming. "Thanks, Cas, but it wasn't your fault."

"Cas?"

Dean's cheeks reddened slightly. No, Castiel must have been mistaken. The sophomore didn't seem the type to blush. "It's a nickname. Castiel's kinda a mouthful, so I shortened it to Cas. Is that okay?" he seemed to really care about the freshman's response.

Castiel had never had a nickname before. Wait, that wasn't true. His family called him Cassie right before punching him. He smiled as he mulled the nickname over in his head. Cas. It sounded good, and it marked the beginning of a friendship. His first nickname from his first friend.

"It's fine, I like it. Nobody's ever given me a nickname before," he said.

Dean frowned. "Seriously? Not even your friends?"

"I don't have friends," Castiel responded. He wasn't sure when it was socially acceptable to call someone a friend. He guessed that the process was similar to dating; one person asked the other to be their friend, and was either accepted or rejected.

"I'm your friend," Dean said. He seemed mildly hurt.

He pondered that for a moment. Even though his family didn't want him to have friends, he decided to accept the request for friendship. "You're my only friend," Castiel corrected himself.

"On that note, we're at the nurse's office," Dean announced. He checked his watch. "The bell's gonna ring any seco-"

 _RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!_

The bell blared loudly. Voices filled the entire school as students poured out of every classroom. The hallways became like rivers, the students the fish swimming up and down stream. Dean quickly pulled them both into the nurse's office before they were trampled by thundering human feet. Once safe inside the office with the door closed, Castiel hobbled over to the tiny cot at the back of the room. He hissed at every step and groaned loudly when his injured tailbone touched the paper sheet covering the mattress and pillow. He lay back, his spine making odd popping noises that were accompanied by pain. The jaded mattress offered no comfort.

"Son of an assbutt!" Castiel yelped when his head touched the pillow. The ache pulsated up and down his spine, in his ribs, in his skull, in his fingers and toes, everywhere.

"I'm really sorry about knocking you over," Dean apologized. He seemed sincere, his voice filled with guilt.

"There's no need to apologize. I was the one who ran into you," Castiel said, his eyes watching Dean… his friend.

"You're the one who got hurt. But assbutt? Seriously?" Dean asked, smirking.

A clock hung on the wall across from the freshman. It ticked and tocked all day long, no one appreciating its telling of time. It endured the harsh smells of blood, puke, drugs, rubbing alcohol, antiseptic wipes, cleaning supplies, hand sanitizer, and so much more every single day. A loud buzzing announced the start of a new period, the vibrations rattling the circular time telling device on the wall. _Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._ On the nest _tick_ , Castiel's nose started to tickle from all the fumes. It was subtle at first, but gradually grew until he knew he was about to sneeze – something that would jolt his injury.

"Crud," he muttered. His eyes closed, he involuntarily took a large breath in, and sneezed violently. Once, twice, three times he sneezed, with no time in between each one to cry out in pain. After his brief sneezing fit was over, he looked as if he was screaming, but no sounds could be heard other than the _tick_ ing and _tock_ ing of the clock.

Dean didn't realize that his friend was in pain at first. "Bless you," he said.

When he got no response, his green eyes looked closer. Castiel's hair covered his eyes, but the sophomore was able to see a sliver of pain filled blue. He rushed over to help in any way that he could. Seeing nothing he could do to help ease the pain, he brushed the dark brown hair out of the blue eyes.

"I'd ask if you were okay, but I think we both know the answer to that."

Castiel groaned to acknowledge that he had heard Dean.

"Is your injury but a flesh wound?" Dean asked, quoting _Monte Python and the Holy Grail_ in a British accent.

"No, Dean, the wound is very much not in my flesh," Castiel mumble-groaned, frowning slightly and looking at his friend in a confused manner.

Dean sighed heavily. "It's a reference, Cas."

"I don't understand that reference."

Dean face-palmed. "Of course you don't." He sighed, then his green eyes lit up suddenly. "Tomorrow, you are coming to my house and we are watching all of the Monte Python movies."

Castiel thought about that. His parents would never let him out of the house to hang out with a friend, let alone to go to that friend's house and watch movies all day instead of studying. They didn't even want him to have a friend. However, they were more than happy to let him out of the house to go to the library and study. That would be the only way he and his friend could watch movies at Dean's house. He'd have to lie to his parents about going to the library for most of the day to study. Yes, that's what he would do.

"Okay," he said, winning a grin from Dean.

"It's a date!"

Castiel frowned. "A date? I thought we were only friends. Don't romantic partners go on dates?"

Dean's face reddened a bit. "It's a saying, Cas. It's a friend date. I mean, if you want it to be a romantic date after only knowing me for not even an hour, okay, but that wasn't what I had in mind."

"A 'friend date' it is, then," Castiel said.

They waited for three more minutes before the school's nurse, Ms. Mills, finally arrived. She examined the injured freshman the best she could without causing him much pain. Ms. Mills eventually had to ask him to remove the clothing on his upper body so she could check for any possibly spine injuries. Castiel hastily assured her and Dean that he was fine and attempted to leave, but was stopped by his legs buckling from the pain he felt. He was in too much pain to remove his own clothes. The nurse wasn't allowed to as it was against school policy, so Dean had to. The sophomore was as gentle as he could be, cracking jokes while he un-tucked the freshman's shirt. He peeled Castiel's white tank top off, dropping it when he saw his injured friend's torso.

Castiel was covered in bruises and lacerations, each one having a unique shape. Some were shaped like hands, others boots and high heels. The lacerations looked oddly like his own belt had caused them. Some of the bruises were old and fading, smaller, green and sickly yellow. Some of the bruises were a few days old, dark purple, deep blue, and brown, almost glowing from under his pale flesh. Others still were newer, not even a day old. Those were the worst. They were still red and swollen, bright purple, neon green, and light blue marking where he had been hit, kicked, pushed, or punched. Cuts decorated the bruises. There were scars, deep cuts, shallow cuts, healing cuts, and cuts that were still oozing blood. Ms. Mills gagged at the sight.

"No," Dean whispered, his eyes refusing to look away from Castiel's beaten and bloody torso.

Castiel felt ashamed. He had betrayed his family, who had made him promise not to spill the secret. He was an accident baby, the child given to his parents against their wishes. He was the youngest of the Novaks, the runt of the family. Worst of all, he was a rare triplet who had killed the other two; he had an identical twin and a fraternal sister, whom he murdered while still in the womb. He survived. He was responsible. His parents hadn't meant to get pregnant again. It wasn't their fault they were incredibly fertile. His parents and brothers made it very clear that they wished his sister had survived and not him. They would've had the first girl out of ten children, if Castiel hadn't killed her, and his identical twin.

"Domestic abuse. I have to report this. Oh my Lord, I've never seen anything this bad!" Ms. Mills muttered to herself, gazing sadly at Castiel as she reached for a phone.

"That's why you're in so much pain… It's not just your tailbone," Dean mused, his eyes wide as the nurse reported Castiel's condition, having connected the dots.

Castiel grabbed his trench coat, put it on, and ran out of the nurse's office before Dean or Ms. Mills could stop him. He relished in the pain he felt with each step. _I deserve this,_ he thought, _for existing, for being a nuisance to my family, for murdering James and Anael._ He ran out of the school and to his house, tripping several times and hurting himself even more. He didn't care. It would be much worse when he confronted his parents. He had to ask them for forgiveness, and they would punish him for his betrayal. That's how it had always worked.

He burst into his house, tears streaming down his face, crying: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! They found out! I'm sorry! It wasn't my fault!"

His parents, Naomi and Metatron, calmly walked into the room.

"What did you say?" Naomi snarled through clenched teeth.

Castiel fell to his knees in front of his father. "They found out – the school – I'm so sorry. Let me redeem myself to y-"

A coffee pot shaped clock hung to the right of the doorway to the kitchen. It tocked away quietly. It had witnessed all the beatings Castiel had received over the years. It didn't want the same fate, so it remained quiet. _Tock tock tock tock._ The clock was a bystander and the only witness to what occurred after the injured freshman's apology. _Tock tock tock tock._

 _Bam!_

Castiel's neck snapped back; he had been forcefully kicked in the nose. Blood poured over his lips, down his chin and neck, staining his trench coat and dripping onto the carpeted floor. His body curled around the fist in his gut, flopping onto his back when the fist moved to his jaw. Two sets of hands and feet kicked him, punched him, ripped at his flesh, and held him down. _Tock tock tock tock._ He was on his back on the ground, his arms and legs splayed, warm blood pooling around him. A foot wearing a high heel was placed on his groin, pressing deeper and deeper. Tears diluted the blood dripping off of his face. _Tock tock tock tock._

"It should have been Anael who was saved! Not you! You have betrayed this family, even after all that we have done for you. We raised a murderer. You are a murderer, Castiel," Metatron sneered at his bloody son. "Time for a taste of your own medicine," he roared, launching himself at his son.

 _Tock tock tock tock._

His father's hands wrapped tightly around his throat, choking him. Castiel struggled against them, but his mother held down his arms and legs. He tried to breathe but he couldn't get air into his famished lungs. Metatron's grip tightened, crushing his son's windpipes. Only a few more seconds until he was dead.

 _Tock._

Castiel's chest screamed at him, telling him to do whatever it took to breathe.

 _Tock._

He broke his hands free from his mother's grasp.

 _Tock._

His fingers scrabbled against his father's hands, trying to peel them from his throat.

 _Tock._

His vision blurred and darkened; white flashes of light and Metatron's contorted face were all that he could see.

 _Tock._

With one last burst of energy, he managed to throw Naomi off his legs and he kicked his father off of him. Air rushed into him in choking gasps. He coughed hard, rolling onto his side and curling up into a ball to protect his chest.

 _Tock._

He was alive.

The front door burst open. Police officers filed in, guns at the ready. They found the family in the living room. Metatron and Naomi were handcuffed and lead away. An ambulance screeched to a halt in front of the house. Paramedics rushed to Castiel and took his vitals. He had passed out from the lack of air and his heart was failing. They tried to stabilize, but his heart stopped. The paramedics tried to resuscitate him by using CPR. After thirty seconds of no response, they decided to use electric paddles to shock his heart into beating. _Tock tock tock tock._

Three electric shocks later, there was a weak pulse. _Tock tock tock tock._ The pulse was gone. They started to sweat; they thought that he was going to stay dead. They had one more trick but after that, they would have to give up. Two injections of pure adrenaline entered Castiel's heart. _Tock tock tock tock._ A paramedic performed chest compressions to help the adrenaline restart the freshman's heart.

 _Tock tock tock tock._

Nothing.

"I'm calling it," a pretty paramedic with curly blond hair announced. She glanced at the coffee pot shaped clock. _Tock tock tock tock._ "Time of death -"

"Cas!" Dean burst into the house, fighting off the police officers who tried to restrain him. His green eyes saw his friend – no, his friend's body – and filled with tears.

With a gasping breath, Castiel shot forward, his blue eyes snapping open. "Dean!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dean's POV

Castiel had left the school building so fast, Dean barely had time to grab the freshman's shirt and tie that he had forgotten and run after him. Jogging down the street, a sense of dread filled his chest. Who had done that to Cas? He seemed like such a nice kid – he couldn't deserve it, not with an attitude like that. The anger and hatred towards whoever beat Cas, the fear for his new-found friend, and another set of feelings he couldn't even begin to describe made his heart beat faster and his legs pump harder, breaking into a run.

That's when he heard the sirens. A police car whooshed past him, the air it was stirring up almost knocking him over, followed shortly by a wailing ambulance. Shit, Dean remembered thinking as he ignored the burning in his chest. He was too late. His dread was confirmed as he watched the police and ambulance pull into Castiel's driveway and rush inside. He was sprinting now, sprinting over the cracked, grey sidewalk, his mind trying to push the horrible pictures back as his feet pounded a rhythm into the concrete. _Thump bump thump bump thump bump_. His feet called, blood rushing in his ears. Time seemed to slow down as he burst through Cas's front door into a well-lit entryway littered with paramedics, and in the middle of it – no. Cas, no, Cas's body lay in the middle of it all, a paramedic with curly blonde hair kneeling over him. Dean didn't even have time to make a snarky, flirtatious look at the paramedic as he realized what was going on. "Cas!" He yelled just as someone grabbed his arms. He didn't even have time to process what he was doing as he flung their arms off of him. He wouldn't admit it later, but his eyes were prickling with tears.

Dean had never realized how important a heartbeat was until he heard Cas didn't have one anymore. Just as all hope was crashing around his feet, Dean heard a rattled, gasping breath as Castiel surged forward off the floor, his blue eyes snapping open. "Dean!" He called, his voice urgent but weak.

The paramedics were sent into a frenzy as Castiel winced, coughing and then curling up in pain. The pretty blonde one gently grabbed his shoulder, trying to turn him to her. "Honey, can you look at me? What's your name?"

Cas jumped back at her touch, skittering backwards across the hardwood floor, his eyes wide in terror. Just then, a police officer seized Dean's arm, turning him around. "We're going to have to ask you to leave." The man said, his other hand authoritatively on his hip.

"No, you don't understand, he's my friend!" Dean struggled futilely in the man's grasp. His heart was pounding in his chest. _Thump bump thump bump thump bump._ "They're going to hurt him! He needs me!"

"Look, kid," the police officer said, easily pushing him out of the house. "I'm going to have to ask you to stay out here."

"No!" Dean said, shoving the man in the chest and running back into the house before anyone could grab him, skidding to a stop next to Castiel. "Cas, Cas, it's me, I'm here." He babbled, and Cas opened his eyes wide enough to finally see Dean's face.

"Dean." He said softly, and the pain in his voice made Dean wince.

"It's okay, buddy, it's all over." He hadn't realized it, but tears were spilling down his face and plopping softly against his shirt. "They're gonna take care of you, okay?"

"Okay." He whispered softly, just as the cop caught up with Dean and pulled him back.

"Son, come with me." He said, leading Dean out of the house for a second time. "You can't be in there, not while the EMT's are. You're just gonna have to wait." Dean stopped struggling, wiping back tears as he backed out of the house, not tearing his eyes from Castiel's pale body, curled up on the floor and tentatively accepting the medic's probing hands. When Cas was out of view, Dean turned his eyes to meet the cop's amber ones. "That your boyfriend?" The cop asked, a trace of pity showing in his gaze.

"No." Dean almost blushed. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck as his heart slowly calmed down. _Thump bump thump bump thump bump._ He was shaking, he realized as he pulled Cas' shirt to his chest. "Just a friend."

The EMT's had managed to get Castiel laying on a stretcher, and were carrying him out of the house. "I… I don't know what happened to him!" His mother was saying, sobbing on a police officer's arm as she was led away in handcuffs. Her eyes, though clouded with tears, were sharp and hard in their blue severity. "He just… He comes home like this… I don't know what happened!"

Dean already didn't like her. The paramedics had gotten Castiel into the ambulance then, hooked up to a heart monitor and all sorts of other stuff. There was a tube around his head to help him breathe, staff already working on him. Dean spaced off, watching the line on Cas's heart monitor through his adrenaline-filled haze. The soft _thump bump_ that he knew echoed in Cas's chest had been replaced with a jagged green line and weak, steady beeping. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ Over and over again. He went to stand by the ambulance door, and the pretty blonde EMT glanced down at him. "Want to ride along?" She asked him, flashing a sorry smile.

Dean nodded. He took a seat on the side of the ambulance, in a special seat designed for that purpose. Cas's jagged green line was irregular, all over the place, but there. Dean said a silent thanks to a god he barely believed in for that one. Cas's weak, wan form was exemplified in the lights, every bruise standing out against his ashen skin, every bloodstained cut gruesomely scarlet against the white sheet. _Beep. Beep. Beep._

The ambulance doors were closed, with him, Cas, and two EMT's rushing away inside, the lights and sirens blaring. "We're gonna need 100 cc of that ointment, at least." The male EMT said, his head full of short brown hair pulled back in a net. "Make that 200, actually – This kid's not in good shape."

Cas was drifting in and out of consciousness. More than once on the five minute ride to the hospital, he jumped up, startled, and shied away from the paramedics with a scared look on his face. "It's alright, Cas." Dean had whispered, just loud enough to be heard. Castiel's face seemed to relax, and he gingerly rested back on the stretcher.

"We're gonna need to take him straight to the ER." The blonde nurse was saying. "He might have a cracked rib, a concussion, these lacerations don't look good… the left pectoral one is going to need to be stitched. We'll have to call Dr. Burton." She mused, her hands flying from controls to Castiel's body and back to the controls. She stopped, turning to Dean. "How much do you know about the boy?"

"Not much." He admitted, his voice coming out deep and strained. "Name, grade, the easy stuff."

"Okay, let's start there. Tell Dale here about him." She motioned to the male EMT, who had grabbed a clip board and was staring at Dean intently.

"Name?" He asked.

"Castiel Novak." Dean replied in a low voice.

"Grade?"

"Freshman. He's probably 14 or 15." Dean shook his head. "Look, man, I don't know hardly anything about him. We're fairly new friends, okay?"

"Fair enough." Dale replied, turning to look at Cas to answer a few questions _Hair color: Dark brown. Eyes: Blue. Approx. height: 5'10". Approx. weight: Undefined._

Dean turned back to watching the blonde EMT and Castiel. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ The heart monitor reported stoically. It had seen a lot – car crashes, heart attacks, the occasional murder victim being taken to the morgue – but it hadn't even seen a kid beat up as badly as Castiel. It wasn't his body that was broken so badly, even though that in itself was sickening, no, it was his spirit. He was emotionally broken.

They finally were at the hospital. The paramedics rushed into action, unhooking Cas from most of the equipment and opening the ambulance doors, wheeling the gurney out and into the ER while talking in a frenzy. The heart monitor, forgotten in everyone's rush, flat lined as it was yanked from Castiel's chest. _Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppppppppppp._ Dean shook his head to rid himself of the image of it flat-lining with Cas attached before he followed the EMT's into the hospital. "You're going to have to come with me." Dale said, leading Dean into a crowded waiting room. "There's nothing you can do for him now, he's in the doctor's hands."

Dean didn't like being helpless. His heart still pounded inn his chest as he took a seat in the harsh lights of the waiting room. _Thump bump. Thump bump. Thump bump._ Its rhythm calmed him, lulling him down from his adrenaline high as he relaxed against the cheap waiting room chairs. He attracted stares from the other people, naturally. A few old people, a man clutching his head in his hands, a woman and her child, all turning to stare at the newcomer to their sanitized-smelling wonderhell. He sat for who knows how many minutes, staring at the door to the ER, until a man rushed into the hospital, his eyes wide and his blonde hair unkempt. He ran up to the front desk. "Ma'am, is there a boy checked in here by the name of Novak? Castiel Novak?"

"Why, yes there is!" The lady behind the desk said, resting her dark face on a pudgy arm. "How can I help you?"

"I'm his brother, Lucifer Novak. Can I see him?"

"He's in with the doctor right now, honey, but if you take a seat…" She motioned towards the waiting room, a smile on her face. "I'm sure you'll be able to see him in an hour or two."

Lucifer's worried face dropped into what Dean would almost call a growl for a moment before recomposing himself. "Of course. Just let me know." He wandered into the sitting room, taking the only available seat, which happened to be next to Dean. Looking over at him, Lucifer smiled almost kindly. "Who're you in for?"

"A friend." Dean said simply, not taking his eyes from the ER door.

"Must be a good friend." Lucifer cracked, trying to make a joke. "I hate this place. If it weren't for my brother, I'd be hightailing it out of here ASAP."

"Yeah, well, Cas needs someone good here." He muttered. If his mother and father had beaten the poor kid like that, Dean shuddered to think of what his brother had done. Maybe he'd only stood by and watched, but there wasn't a mark on the elder, and that in its own right made Dean unrealistically mad.

"Cas?" Lucifer had caught what Dean said, his eyes taking on a cruel, hard glint. "Cas as in Castiel? Castiel Novak?"

"That'd be him." Dean responded low in his throat.

Lucifer laughed. "You've got to be joking me. My brother doesn't have friends, and even if he did, he wouldn't be caught dead with someone like you."

Dean ignored his comment no matter how much it made his blood boil. He could hear his own pulse in his ears. _Thump bump. Thump bump. Thump bump._ Cas needed him here, he could feel it. _Thump bump. Thump bump. Thump bump._ Minutes passed, with nothing but the shifting of people and the quiet TV playing in the background. Dean was itching to get out of this room, to go outside or see Cas or do something, but he made a mental vow not to move until the doctor called him (and apparently, Lucifer) back for Castiel. The nurse had said two hours, then so be it, he'd sit for two hours. He looked down, surprised when he realized he was still holding Castiel's balled up shirt and tie in his hands. He stared at it for a minute like it was foreign. The situation hit him then. He was sitting here, in the hospital waiting room instead of in the lunch line, waiting on a report for someone he'd met only hours earlier. It seemed stupid; he almost laughed, but Cas was different somehow. He didn't know why he cared about the kid so much. Something in his eyes, the way he looked at Dean, almost reminded him of Sammy. A beat, hurt, abused Sammy. With wicked sky blue eyes.

It had been an hour and a half in uncomfortable silence when a doctor came out of the back, scanning the waiting room. "Anyone here for Castiel Novak?" he asked as he removed a hair net.

Dean stood up before Lucifer had time to process the question. "Is he alright?" He asked, trying not to let as much worry show on his face as there was in his heart.

"He will be, eventually." The doctor replied, a strained smile on his face as Lucifer stood up behind Dean. "He's pretty beat up, but he's awake. If you'll come with me…"

Dean was right on the doctor's heels, Lucifer hanging back as they walked to Castiel's room. The first impression Dean had as they turned into room 79 was its impeccable whiteness. His eyes were drawn to Castiel's form in the white bed, bruised and battered, covered in gauze and ointment, hooked up to yet another heart monitor. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ Dean's breath almost caught in his throat, but he wouldn't show it. Cas looked up from his hand, smiling when he saw Dean, but his face went pale and as white as the bedsheet when Lucifer walked in. Dean was right – his brother was a bastard, he never helped or DREAMED of helping Cas away from their parents. "Hey, Cassie." Lucifer said, his voice forced into faux sweetness. "I'm glad you're alright, little brother. I heard those kids at school can be pretty vicious."

"Yes." Castiel murmured automatically. His heart rate on the monitor went up a little bit. _Beep beep beep beep._ "I'm glad I'm safe now."

Dean watched the two of them. "I… I came back to return your shirt. You left it at school." Dean said awkwardly as Lucifer stared at him intently. Dean folded the shirt, laying it on the counter next to Castiel's bed and going to lean on the blindingly white wall.

"My brother's… shirt." Lucifer said, sending Dean an amused gaze. "Well, thank you, kid."

"Yeah, thanks, Dean." Cas echoed, his voice low and pained.

"Don't thank me, just rest. You're beat up bad, man."

Dean gave Cas a wry smile. Cas echoed it hollowly, his eyes still clouded with pain despite whatever drugs they had an IV piping into his system. Lucifer looked between the two of them, the cruel, amused smile never leaving his face. "I'm going to go get lunch, Castiel, alright?" He said. Clearly not a question.

"Okay, Lucifer." Castiel replied, his head sinking back in the pillows. When Lucifer left, Castiel turned his eyes to Dean. Dean wondered, momentarily, how Cas's eyes got so blue. Was there anything else in the world that was that colour? Dean doubted it. "That was my brother."

"I know." Dean said, sitting in a chair in the corner. He was tired, he realized. The adrenaline had finally left his system and he was crashing hard. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"What for?" Castiel looked genuinely confused. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I know. I really don't know. Don't ask me what I mean." Dean shook his head, rubbing his temples. His eyes threatened to close every second. The heart monitor wasn't helping, its muted electronic beeps lulling him deeper to sleep. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ Cas watched his face as Dean watched the heart monitor, stared at the white ceiling, the cream colored floor tiles, anywhere but Castiel's face.

"It's okay, really." Cas said quietly.

"No, it's not. You could have been dead forever." Dean's voice almost sounded like it was shaking. Was Dean's voice shaking? He didn't like the idea he'd let his voice shake, and he cleared his throat. "So, y'know, don't die, okay?"

"I won't, not right now." He promised "We all die someday."

"I know." Dean was quiet for a moment, and then smiled wryly. "I guess we don't get to watch Monte Python tomorrow, huh?" He mused, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

"It doesn't appear that way." Castiel attempted to smile at Dean, but he managed to contort his face into a weird grimace. "I'm sorry that I ruined our friend date, Dean."

"I already told you, don't apologize." Dean said gruffly.

"You said not to thank you, and I'm not." Castiel pointed out, his voice weak.

"Just rest, man." Dean said, standing. "I should probably go – they might try to bring you lunch soon. I should go get my own lunch."

"Okay." Cas said, sounding kind of sad Dean was leaving. "But you'll come back, right?"

"That's what friends do, Cas." As Dean left the room, walking down the blindingly white corridor, the heart monitor's beeps faded into the background. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had a serious case of writer's block. Chapter 4 should be out later today. I write Castiel's POV and AO3's Daisuki Rose writes Dean's POV. Also, there is some mild violence in this chapter, as well as Cas reflecting on his (extremely) dark past - heads up! ~storywriter713_

Chapter 3

Castiel's POV

 _Drip... Drip... Drip... Drip..._

 _Dying is a weird thing,_ Castiel thought. _Yet living is even stranger._

 _Drip... Drip... Drip... Drip..._

Castiel listened to the steady drip of pain medication. He examined his bandaged left hand which stung faintly. He kept trying to remember what he had experienced when he died, but couldn't. He just remembered a warm, fuzzy feeling of happiness and content. He almost sneezed, but managed to hold it back. He mentally cringed at the thought of sneezing. He'd probably go into shock from the pain. Cas looked up at all the monitors hooked up to him and saw Dean walking in. He started to smile but blanched when he saw his older brother, Lucifer, walk into his room.

"Hey, Cassie," Lucifer said, "I'm glad you're alright, little brother. I heard those kids at school can be pretty vicious." Castiel could feel his heart beating faster. He was playing nice. His family always played nice when they were livid and going to hurt him. Cas didn't want to anger him, so he just said, "Yes. I'm glad I'm safe now."

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip…_

The tenseness of the silence that ensued was palpable. Castiel watched Dean looked back and forth between him and his brother, a strange expression on his face. He looked uncomfortable, shifting his center of gravity back and forth between his feet. Lucifer watched him. The freshman could tell that his brother wanted his friend to leave.

"I… I came back to return your shirt. You left it at school," Dean announced. He held up Castiel's button-up shirt and lay it gingerly onto the counter next to Cas's bed. The walls were even whiter than the shirt.

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip..._

Castiel watched a flicker of anger in his brother's eyes, which was quickly replaced with fake amusement. "My brother's… shirt," Lucifer said, watching Dean. "Well, thank you, kid."

"Yeah, thanks, Dean." Castiel just wanted to disappear into the crisp white sheets.

"Don't thank me, just rest. You're beat up bad, man," Dean said. He smiled at Cas.

Castiel attempted to smile back. He knew he had to keep up a facade so Dean wouldn't be able to tell that it wasn't just his parents that beat him. The memories of his father strangling him came back, his throat throbbing. When he saw Lucifer's false smile, the throbbing intensified.

"I'm going to go get lunch, Castiel, alright?" Lucifer announced. The injured freshman knew that it wasn't a question – it was a threat. His brother was telling him that he was going to come back later when Dean wasn't there.

"Okay, Lucifer," Castiel replied. When Lucifer left, Castiel visibly relaxed, his head touching the pristine white pillow. He turned his head to Dean. "That was my brother."

"I know," Dean said. He walked to a chair beside Castiel and sat down. He was probably tired and wanted to leave. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"What for? You haven't done anything wrong." Why would Dean apologize for something that he didn't do? Castiel was confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I know. I really don't know. Don't ask me what I mean." Dean's eyes closed for a moment as he rubbed his temples. When they opened, the green never fell onto Castiel's face.

"It's okay, really," Cas said.

"No, it's not. You could have been dead forever. So, y'know, don't die, okay?" There was a slight tremor in Dean's voice, alerting Castiel that his friend was serious.

"I won't, not right now." Castiel tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a pained face. "We all die someday."

"I know." Dean paused before he started to smirk. "I guess we don't get to watch Monte Python tomorrow, huh?"

"It doesn't appear that way." Castiel felt horrible for ruining Dean's plans. "I'm sorry that I ruined our friend date, Dean."

"I already told you, don't apologize," Dean replied. He didn't seem angry, but his tone was sharper than it was before.

"You said not to thank you, and I'm not," Castiel defended himself. Was Dean going to hit him?

"Just rest, man," Dean said, standing. "I should probably go – they might try to bring you lunch soon. I should go get my own lunch."

Saddened, Castiel said, "Okay, but you'll come back, right?"

"That's what friends do, Cas."

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip…_

Dean was gone. Castiel felt sad, lonely, and ashamed. How could he think his friend was going to hurt him? He closed his eyes. Tears oozed from under his eyelids, rolling down his face and making dark spots on the pillow. He was so stressed and scared he didn't know who he was anymore. With his parents gone, his home life would be different. His siblings would be furious at him and they would probably kill him. For good. Dean would make different friends and move on. Everyone would live their lives without him. Cas muffled a sob with his hands. He was a disgrace to his family. Who knew what they would do when they all visited him. Who knew what Lucifer would do when he came back. Who knew what they would do to Dean if he found out. A small whimper escaped him.

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip..._

"Stop crying, you little bitch."

Castiel's eyes flew open. He saw his brother in clear detail. The buzz cut short blond hair, the disgust filled light blue eyes, the almost invisible eyebrows, the ears that stuck out, the slightly pointy nose, the 5 o'clock shadow. He saw his brother's stubby fingers ball up into a fist as he brought it toward Cas's face. _SMACK!_ The blow rattled the freshman's brain. He let out a cry of pain. Alarms blared when Lucifer hit him again, the force of his punch causing the needles to detach themselves, suction cups to pop off. His brother quickly stepped away from him. Nurses rushed in to see what happened. Lucifer had his back turned to them, winking at his little brother before donning a horrified look on his face and whirling around.

"I don't know what happened! He just tried to give me a hug and then he was crying out in pain! You have to help him!" Lucifer sobbed, gesturing wildly with his hands.

"You need to calm down, sir," a nurse said.

Castiel watched as Lucifer was led out. He could see the amusement behind his scared facade. The needles were placed back in his arm, the suction cups back on his chest. He received orders to not move if he could avoid it. He nodded weakly, his brain still spinning from the blows. He was surprised when Dean rushed in, pushing past the nurses.

"Cas! Cas, are you okay?" Dean demanded, resisting the arms trying to lead him outside of the room.

"Sir, you are not allowed in here for the next twelve hours. Only family members and significant others are allowed," a nurse, the same one that ushered Lucifer out, said.

Castiel was confused. If family members were allowed, why did they make Lucifer leave? He realized that it was because his brother was making sporadic movements and yelling very loudly. He didn't want his brother to come back again. He couldn't take anymore pain. Before he realized what he was saying, he blurted, "Dean is my boyfriend."

"He is?"

Castiel nodded. His blue eyed met Dean's, pleading for him to just go along with it. Dean nodded. "I am." The nurse holding the sophomore's arm let go. The blond rushed over to the brunette. "Are you okay, babe?" he demanded, grabbing Cas's unbandaged hand.

Castiel shook his head. He was not okay. Dean's thumbed traced comforting circles on the back of his hand while the nurses left, some glaring at them. Once the last nurse had drawn the curtains and closed the door, the sophomore removed his hand from the freshman's. "I guess we're pretend boyfriends now," Dean said, smirking, his cheeks slightly pink.

"I'm sorry, Dean, it just came out. I didn't mean to -"

"Buddy, you need to stop apologizing. I just want to know the truth. Is Lucifer and your other family members hitting you, too?" Dean asked softly.

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip..._

"Don't ask me that," Castiel ordered.

"I just want to know the truth. I want to help you," Dean said.

"You want the truth? Fine, I'll tell you the truth. The truth is that it all started before I was even born. I was supposed to be a triplet, but instead I murdered the other two in the womb. The truth is that all my life I have been beaten. The truth is that I deserve everything that has happened to me because I killed two people when I was a baby. In elementary school, I was bullied. I deserved that. In middle school, I was sexually harassed by my friend. I told him I was homosexual, and guess what? He wanted to make me pay. The truth is I thought that I deserved everything that he did to me. I made weak attempts to stop it even though I didn't like or want it. My parents weren't happy, my siblings weren't happy, I wasn't happy, so why not let somebody be happy? Why not Caleb? I didn't try to stop it, even egged it on at times. I was being hurt at home and at school. I deserved it. I let it happen. I let Caleb do those things. I let myself be pinned to a wall and kissed. I let Caleb have his pictures. I knew I would eventually tell someone, so I asked for pictures back. I would use them as blackmail if I had to to get it to stop. I let my family beat me up.

"I attempted suicide five times in that one month I was being sexually harassed. Five times. I tried to overdose, but I didn't take enough pills. I pushed a push pin into my temple, but it didn't go in far enough. I tried to slice my wrists open, but I was hurting too badly from the beatings. I tried to slam my head hard enough against a desk but I was too weak. I tried to drown myself in the bathtub, but I didn't get enough water in my lungs. At school we were building small wooden boats. There were drills I contemplated using. Somebody who didn't hate me, William, knew. I think he could tell. I wouldn't let myself feel. I gave myself bruises to keep myself from caving into Caleb's constant demands for sex, to keep myself from letting him touch me. He broke me, though. Eventually I said yes to stop him from asking. I never went through with it, though. I just couldn't. My emotions built up inside of me, but I always held them back. After the pictures he called me a bitch and threatened me. My emotions finally won the battle and burst out in the form of tears. I cried so much that day and told a teacher, who told my family. They didn't care, though. They just beat me up for not giving Caleb what he wanted.

"My family beat me up for every little thing. All of them. Every single one of my brothers. Both of my parents. Whether it was because I missed a point on a test, because I spilled something, or just because they were having a bad day, they would always hit me or punch me or kick me or push me. I never told them that I am homosexual. They would have killed me. So instead I got a knife and cut crosses into my thighs every night. I cut crosses into my flesh to remind myself why I couldn't tell them. I had to wear that trench coat whenever I left the house to cover up the bruises. They didn't want anybody to find out, because they would've gotten into trouble. They told me they would kill me if I ever told someone. Well, they found out, as you know, and they did kill me. I'm scared, Dean. I'm so scared of what my family is going to do to me. The alarms went off because Lucifer punched me hard enough to knock all the wires lose. I'm scared, Dean. I don't want to go back to my family. But if I don't, they will find me and they will kill me."

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip..._

By the end of his monologue, Castiel was crying. Hard. His sobbing rattled his broken ribs, causing him to cry more. That was the first time he had ever told anyone what had been happening to him his entire life. He felt ashamed. What he had said was true: he had let all of those things happen to him. He could've stopped it by telling someone sooner. He could've had a happy life. Instead he let everything happen to him because he was homosexual. Through his tears, he looked at his friend. He trusted Dean for some strange reason, even though they had only just met. His tears made his vision too blurry to tell, but he thought he saw the sophomore wiping tears off his face. He watched the blurred form of Dean move toward him. He felt Dean's warm arms gently pulling him into a hug. That made him cry more, knowing that he had finally found someone who cared, someone he could feel safe around.

 _Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip..._

"You didn't deserve… _any_ of what happened to you, Cas. You are _not_ a murderer. There's _nothing_ wrong with being gay. You didn't deserve getting beaten up by your family, or being harassed by that boy. You deserve so much better than that, Cas." Castiel cried harder, clutching his friend to him. "You shouldn't have tried to kill yourself, you shouldn't have cut yourself. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved, you deserve to have a life. Don't ever let anyone, including yourself, take that away from you." Dean held Castiel in an embrace until he was done crying. The sophomore brought his chair closer to the bed and sat down, putting a comforting hand on the freshman's shoulder.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, his voice hoarse from crying.

"No need to thank me, buddy, I'm just telling the truth." Dean smiled at the freshman, who hesitantly returned the gesture. They continued talking for a few hours.

"Can we still watch Monte Python? Just not tomorrow like we had planned, instead after I get discharged from here?" Castiel asked.

"Of course! Hurry up and heal, you slowpoke! Doctors and hospitals give me the creeps. Not as much as planes, but enough to make me want to leave," Dean replied, joking.

The freshman got an idea. He could tell that Dean was making a joke, so he decided to make one, too. "I'm sorry my healing rate is too slow, Dean," Castiel said with a smirk.

Dean looked at him oddly for a few seconds before he burst out laughing, removing his hand from Cas's shoulder so he could slap his knee in an attempt to over-do it. "Wow, you actually made a joke. I can not believe you just made a frigging joke, Cas!"

Castiel noticed that Dean often put his nickname, Cas, at the end of almost every sentenced that was addressed to him. He thought of another joke, one guaranteed to make his friend laugh. "I'm thinking of a word."

"What is it?" Dean asked

Castiel inwardly groaned. Dean didn't say Cas at the end of his sentence. He decided to try again. "Guess!" he insisted.

"Damn it, Cas. I hate guessing. Just tell me!" Dean demanded.

Since Dean didn't seem angry, Cas decided to give it another shot. "Guess the word."

"What's the word, Cas?"

"It is a shortened version of my name." Castiel felt proud of his joke. He beamed at Dean, waiting for his reaction. When he received nothing but a confused stare from his friend, he sighed. "Do you get it?"

"No, I don't get it." Dean frowned, trying to understand why that was a joke.

"'Cas' is the shortened version of my name, Castiel. You said 'what's the word, Cas' as in you were asking me what the word was. However, it can also be taken as you asking what the word 'Cas' is. The second one is the joke," Castiel explained.

Dean laughed. "Oh my God, I feel like such an idiot! That's really clever. I can't believe I didn't get that. You are really funny, you know that?"

Castiel practically glowed at the compliment. "Thank you, Dean. You are pretty good at telling jokes yourself… But I think I am marginally better."

Dean grinned. "I don't know about that! I have some pretty mean knock knock jokes."

Castiel frowned. "If a joke is mean, then you shouldn't tell it, because it may end up offending someone," he said.

Dean sighed. "Not mean like that, Cas. Mean as in really good."

"Oh, okay. Please, proceed."

"Knock knock." Dean smirked.

"Who's there?" Castiel was grateful he at least understood what a knock knock joke was.

"Doctor." Dean grinned.

"Doctor who?" Castiel didn't know any knock knock jokes involving doctors.

"Exactly!" Dean beamed at his joke.

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "I don't get it. Could you explain?"

"It's a reference. Haven't you seen Doctor Who?"

"I don't understand that reference. No, I have not seen Doctor Who. Is that a movie about a doctor who doesn't reveal his name so he doesn't get credit for the good deeds he does?"

"What? No! Doctor Who is only one of the most amazing TV shows in the history of TV shows! I must educate you, you poor, poor, poor uneducated boy."

"Will we watch it when we watch Monte Python?" Castiel asked.

"Yes!" Dean said. He was acting very excited.

"It's a friend date, then," Castiel said.

"It's a friend date."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Dean and Castiel's "friend date"! This chapter is probably going to be the least angsty chapter in this entire story. Daisuki Rose from AO3 writes Dean's POV._

Chapter 4

Dean's POV

It had been maybe three days since Cas was finally released from the hospital. Dean was glad – Hospitals creeped him out. He lay across his bed, throwing a ball in the air above his head and listening to the whir-click of a broken fan blade and the dull humming of his boom box. He had turned it on, but hadn't yet put a tape in. Nothing sounded right today; he was restless and indecisive. The Beatles was too calm, Metallica was too calm, AC/DC was too fast… He couldn't put a mixtape to his mood, and it was bothering him. Instead, he bounced the ball above his head, listening to it whoosh through the air and slap back against his palm. He timed his breath with the whoosh-slap of the ball. He'd never say it, but the little things, things like the sound a basketball made when it hit his palm, calmed him down. He was in control – Right where he liked to be. Like today, for instance. He knew what he and Cas would be doing – Cas was coming over to (finally) watch Monte Python with him! And Doctor Who, apparently. And anything else they could cram into the time they had before Cas had to be home.

 _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click._ The broken fan blade catcalled through the quiet house. He closed his eyes, never missing a beat with the basketball, until there was a knock at the front door, echoing through the quiet of the house, and Dean sat bolt upright, sending the ball flying to the floor with a last, decided thud. He heard his Mother's footsteps going to the door, and he almost smiled. That would be Castiel, right on time as Dean had learned to expect from the freshman. He was never even a minute late, sometimes even a few minutes early, punctuality at its finest, and Dean kind of liked that. He grabbed a random tape and stuck it in his boom box, pretending that he hadn't been doing nothing but waiting for Cas's arrival. He sighed as Skid Row came through the speakers – Perfect. "Dean!" His mother called from the entryway, inviting Castiel in. "Your friend is here!"

"Okay!" Dean called, frantically throwing his basketball into the closet, smoothing down his hair, and opening his bedroom door, doing a little wave as he saw Cas come around the corner. "Right on time." He commented with a smirk.

"Of course I am, Dean." The younger boy said, his big blue eyes pinned on Dean's face, guarded enthusiasm written all over his face. "I wouldn't be late for our friend date."

Dean's mother raised an eyebrow at him behind Cas's back, and he almost blushed, waving his mom off. "I know you wouldn't buddy. We'll put in Monte Python as soon as I find it – I think it got mixed up in there somewhere." He motioned to his cabinet, where there was a pile of mixtapes and VHS cassettes jumbled together and out of their cases.

Cas nodded, absentmindedly tugging at the sleeves of his trench coat while his eyes scanned over Dean's bedroom, taking in every last detail. Dean watched him scan the room for almost a full thirty seconds before he realized he was staring and went to the cabinet, turning his back to Cas and digging through the pile of tapes with a new fervor, pretending he couldn't feel the almost-blush that was creeping up his neck. Him and Cas were just friends, dammit, he shouldn't feel this way. He looked up after a minute, pulling the tape out of the mess. "Found it." He said lamely, but Cas smiled grandly.

"That's good." The younger boy said, hesitating in the doorway of Dean's room as he watched the boom box be shut off and the cabinet be closed. "Where are we going to watch it?"

"In the family room." Dean answered, coming out of his room and leading Cas to the family room, where there was a pair of big, fluffy sofas and a television taking main stage. "Mom and Sammy'll be heading out soon, so we won't be disturbing them."

"Sammy?" Castiel asked, a puzzled look on his face.

Dean mentally slapped himself for not telling Cas he had a little brother. "Sammy's my little brother, he's a 7th grader." Just then, there was a loud crash from the kitchen and Castiel noticeably flinched. "There's Sam." Dean said, rolling his eyes as a dirt-covered little boy clutching a soccer ball in his arms ran into the room, his sparkling eyes wide. Dean ruffled his hair as Sam stopped and looked over the room.

"Mom's not in here, is she?" Sam asked, his eyes sparking with mischief.

"No…" Dean replied skeptically. Sam was always up to something – Asking if Mom was here was a major sign he'd done something again. "What'd you do?"

"I… I kicked my ball into Mrs. Franklin's yard." He said, a grin lighting his face, breathing heavily from running. "And I went to go get it."

"AND?" Dean asked, almost rolling his eyes.

"Her dog almost got me. But he didn't! I got the ball, and whoom! Out of there faster than you can say Billy Idol!"

Dean laughed, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hair. As his hand extended, he saw Castiel tense in his periphery, but didn't think anything of it until he had already pulled his hand back from Sam's light brown hair. "Don't get eaten by that Rottweiler!" Dean called after Sam as he rushed back outside. Dean shook his head with a smile, turning back to Castiel. "So yeah. That's Sammy."

Cas nodded slowly, looking over at the couch for a minute before sitting down, his trench coat still on. _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click_. Dean knelt in front of the TV, fiddling with the buttons as he connected the VCR and popped in the Monte Python tape. "We won't start the movie until Mom leaves, alright? I don't want it to be too loud for her." He turned back, finding Cas spacing off and staring at one of Dean's family portraits. "Cas?" No response as the freshman kept up his blank stare. Dean got up and touched Cas's shoulder. "Cas? Earth to Cas!" When Dean touched his arm, Castiel jumped back, fear flashing over his eyes until he realized it was just Dean. "Woah, whoa, buddy, calm down! It's just me." Dean almost laughed, sitting on the couch with a cushion between him and Cas.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel did a small, helpless shrug. "What did you say?"

"We'll start the movie after Mom and Sammy leave." Dean repeated, watching his friend's face. Even now that Cas's parents were in jail for decidedly killing him (even though he'd been revived), the poor kid hadn't let up any, staying tense and scared all the time, that trench coat hanging limply from his lanky frame like a security blanket of sorts.

"Oh, alright." Castiel nodded, fidgeting with the sleeves of his trench coat again. "After they leave, that's okay."

Dean nodded, just as his Mom came into the room. "I'm heading out, Dean, so you and Castiel be good, okay? There's food in the cupboards, if you two boys want it."

"Thanks, Mom." Dean smiled gratefully, getting up to hug her. His mom caught him with a quick peck on the cheek, which he shuffled his feet at and wiped away like a five-year-old. "See you tonight."

"Bye, honey!" She called, and then, with a backwards glance over her shoulder, added, "Bye, Castiel!"

"Bye!" Cas called, watching Dean's mother leave earnestly, an emotion Dean couldn't decode hidden in his eyes. Dean had never been much good at emotions anyways, so not being able to figure out what Cas was feeling wasn't that shocking, but he still felt like he should've recognized the look his new friend wore. His mom's footsteps clicked down the paved drive, and out to the car, which started like a dream and its engine faded into the distance. Cas was quiet for a minute before turning his baby blue eyes back to Dean. "Um… Your mom seems really nice." He mumbled quietly, tugging at his sleeves.

"She is." Dean answered with a half-smile, kneeling in front of the television to turn on the VCR. "So… Monte Python?"

"Yup." Cas replied. His mind was elsewhere, though, wandering back to wherever it had been before Sammy and Dean's mom had come in.

 _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click._

About twenty minutes into the movie, Castiel was fidgeting restlessly across the couch from Dean. He was tapping his shoe half-heartedly against the hardwood. Suddenly, Cas kicked at the floor, the sole of his shoe making a dejected squeak on the hardwood. Dean dragged his eyes away from the screen (the movie was just getting good, dammit!) to look at his friend's face. "What's wrong?" He asked, not even bothering to pause the movie.

"Nothing," Cas lied, his eyes skittering around the surface of the coffee table before looking back up at Dean. "Well… I don't know. I'll be fine, Dean."

"No you won't." Dean replied, fully turning to face Cas. The light of the television sent eerie flickers of light over Cas's face, making his already vibrant eyes almost glow in the relative darkness of the living room. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Do you ever just… Wish you could forget?" Castiel asked, his voice dropping to an almost whisper. "Like, so you didn't have to remember all the bad things that have happened?"

"Yeah, of course, I think we all do." Dean replied, his eyebrows almost coming together as he studied Cas's face. "Look, man, if…"

"I just need to forget, Dean." Cas said softly, then louder, more sure of himself. "I just need to forget. I need a distraction."

In that moment, Castiel looked so sad, so broken, but so hopeful that something inside of Dean changed. The soft glow of the television flickering against the freshman's pale skin was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever remembered seeing, and he let out a shaky breath. "What kind of distraction?" Dean asked as Castiel met his eyes.

"I… I don't know." Dean realized that Cas was shaking, shuddering violently under that giant trench coat of his. "Just distract me, Dean, please!"

Dean hesitated for a second. Cas needed to be distracted, but… He didn't know how! Quick thinking wasn't something Dean prided himself on, not really, and it sure as hell wasn't kicking in to help him now. He was about to say something along the lines of "I don't know how, Cas," when Castiel surged forward, and suddenly, there were warm, soft, needy lips on Dean's. Cas's lips, Dean's brain registered, and Cas's hand on the back of Dean's head. His brain also registered that he had frozen when Cas's lips hit his, and his brain, trusty wingman that it was, sent him back into action, kissing Cas. The rhythmic push-pull of their lips seemed to be the exact distraction Cas needed as Dean wrapped his fingers around the back of the younger boy's neck, beginning to work their way through his hair. He nipped at Cas's bottom lip, causing the freshman to gasp as their tongues met for the first time. Dean sucked lightly on Castiel's tongue, eliciting what was almost a moan as Cas nipped gently at Dean's bottom lip. Cas's hand had found Dean's neck, pulling him closer until Dean was almost on top of him, one of Cas's hands staying in the short hairs at the back of the sophomore's neck, the other innocently on his chest. Innocently, only because he was Cas, and Dean really couldn't see the boy getting downright dirty. Although…. Who kissed who here? Dean's hands left Cas's head, one on the side of his neck, the other on the side of his face, pulling them closer as their lips worked, minds (at least, as far as Dean could tell) blank and blissfully passionate.

 _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click._ The fan blade catcalled through the house still, patiently observing the two boys. Dean's breathing had become shallower, less controlled as their kiss had become less tentative and more frantic. Cas pulled at Dean's hair, earning a little noise from the older of the two. Dean's free hand wandered from Cas's neck to his chest, his skinny ribs, finding warmth under his trench coat until Cas gasped, pulling away, his hands back to his coat in a wild motion. "The… the coat stays." Cas managed, his voice low breathy.

Dean nodded, pulling back a fraction of an inch to readjust Cas's coat to how it had been. "The coat stays." Dean agreed before placing careful kisses along Castiel's jawline. Cas let out a sigh against Dean's touch, humming in pleasure as their foreheads rested together, Dean rolling so that they were laying side-by-side instead of Dean almost on top of Cas. "Cas?" Dean murmured against the soft skin of his neck.

"Hm?" Cas hummed low in his throat, nosing into Dean's hair.

"You're beautiful." He whispered, half hoping the freshman wouldn't hear his stupid words. His breath was ragged against Cas's soft skin, ghosting touches across it.

Cas was quiet for a long moment before he replied, his soft words muffled by Dean's hair. "You are, too."

Dean smiled up at Cas from his awkward position on the couch. "Does this mean we don't have to pretend anymore?"

"Huh?" Cas sounded genuinely confused, his bright blue eyes fixed on Dean.

"The boyfriend thing," Dean almost laughed, his lips flush with Cas's skin. "That you said back at the hospital? Is it true?"

"I... I don't know." Cas's breath hitched, stuttering in his chest. "I mean… It, um…"

"It's okay, Cas." Dean replied quietly, his eyelids heavy. "You don't have to answer me now."

 _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click._

About two hours later, Castiel stirred on the couch from his position snuggled into Dean's chest. They had fallen asleep watching the last few minutes of Monte Python, which had now been over for some time. Dean's eyes opened, glancing around for a minute before seeing Cas's peaceful, sleeping face and remembering what had happened. The warmth emanating from Castiel's body was comforting to Dean, who honestly couldn't help but to want to somehow get closer. Cas's eyes fluttered as Dean moved on the couch, opening to meet with Dean's green eyes. Dean's breath hitched in his chest – God, he had almost forgotten how much he loved Castiel's eyes. They were so, so blue… He didn't even know if blue was the right word for something that vibrant. They were… angelic. Castiel's eyes widened, and he looked around frantically, searching for a clock. "How long have we been asleep?" Cas asked, his voice still sleep-stained.

Dean located his clock, reading the time to be almost 5:00 pm. "Maybe two hours," He replied. "It's 5:00 now."

"Son of an assbutt!" Cas jumped up, his eyes wide in terror. "I'm supposed to be home! Dean, I've… I've got to go. I'm sorry." He grabbed his shoes, pulling them on with terrified eyes and mumbling something under his breath.

"It's alright, Cas, really." Dean replied, sitting up and looking confused. Cas had a curfew? An early curfew, apparently. It was Saturday night, for God's sakes!

"I'm sorry, Dean." He kept repeating, tugging at his trench coat sleeves as he backed towards the door. "I've really got to go."

"No, man, it's alright." Dean reassured him, standing up. "You want me to walk home with you, or…?"

"No!" Cas blurted quickly before reassessing what he had said. "No, it's alright, I just…. Really have to go." His hand was on the knob before he looked back. "Thank you, Dean."

"For what?" Dean asked, puzzled.

"Everything. I don't know. Thank you." Castiel's eyes were sincere, that terror staved off by something else as he opened the door and quickly darted out of it. "'Bye, Dean."

"Bye…" Dean murmured as he watched Cas run down the walk and in the direction of home, his big old trench coat flapping in the wind behind him, leaving Dean alone with the _Whir-click_ of that one broken fan blade.

 _Whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click, whir-click._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter is mostly a graphic rape/non-con scene. Read with caution, or feel free to skip this chapter. Also, from now on, there will be little to no breaks from the angst; there will be more chapters with non-consensual happenings. Please, if you need to skip this chapter or stop reading, I advise you to do so. ~storywriter713**_

Chapter 5

Castiel's POV

 _Patpatpatpat._

Castiel ran to his house as fast as he could. He didn't know what had come over him when he had that panic attack. Why did he kiss Dean? Why did Dean kiss back? Did the sophomore have romantic feelings for the freshman, or was he just trying to be nice? Questions rattled around in his brain, begging for answers. The only thing he knew was true was that he was going to get punished for being home late. He was supposed to be at his house by four thirty. His house was a fifteen minute run from the Winchesters', so he'd be over forty-five minutes late. Castiel mentally cringed, knowing the beatings he was going to receive. If his brothers found out… He ran faster, in hope that if he managed to get there quicker, he would be spared. _Patpatpatpat._ He skidded to a halt outside his front door, his ribs aching. He no longer had any broken bones, but he still had the old bruises… and some new ones. He knocked on the door, praying to God that nothing extremely bad would happen to him. The wooden door was flung open before he finished knocking, a pale hand grabbing him by the collar of his trench coat and dragging him inside and throwing him onto the floor.

"Why are you late?" his brother, Lucifer, spat.

"I was studying," Castiel responded, "Like I told you."

Lucifer got down on his knees and flipped his younger brother over so that he could look into his eyes. "And what were you studying?" he demanded.

"Modern human culture," Castiel said, grimacing as the cuts and bruises on his back were pressed against the ground.

"You found your study time very educating, I hope, considering you're home forty-five minutes late," Lucifer said, his voice dripping with acid.

The freshman nodded frantically for a few moments. "I'm very sorry I'm late, brother."

Lucifer pulled his younger brother up forcefully. He pushed Castiel against a wall, his hands pushing against the brunette's shoulders. He leaned in so close, his vile breath infiltrated his little brother's nostrils. "I had Balthazar follow you."

Castiel visibly paled. "You what?"

Lucifer grinned, his teeth closer to yellow than to white. He chuckled, releasing Castiel and pacing around the room. _Pat pat pat pat._ "I had Balthazar follow you, because I knew you weren't really going to study for school. I knew there was something going on between you and that boy. Why didn't you tell us you are a homosexual, Castiel? We could've shown you what love feels like. Instead you go and kiss the first boy who doesn't hit you." _Pat pat pat pat._ Lucifer walked closer to his brother, who stood frozen against the wall. "Don't you love your family, Cassie? Don't you love us? Don't you love me?"

 _Pat pat pat pat… Thump!_

Lucifer shoved Castiel. The brunette's head slammed into the yellow wall. Blood cascading down the sunflower colored wallpaper, turning it orange as gravity pulled it down. The sudden pain in his head stunned him. He froze, eyes closed against the pain, being held up by his brother. The freshman groaned in pain. When Castiel opened his eyes, his was met with the sight of five moving images of his blond older brother, each of the images sporting a grin that scared him. Lucifer took off his shirt and held it to his younger brother's head.

"Look at you, you're bleeding." He licked his lips as he dabbed at Castiel's wound. His sky blue eyes grew predatory as he watched the blood oozing out of the gash on the brunette's head. The blond tentatively brought the bloodied shirt to his lips, first kissing it and then licking off the blood. He shivered in pleasure, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Tastes… so good." He looked at his younger brother, contemplating something. Castiel's eyes widened.

"Lucifer, n-" Castiel's protest was interrupted by his brother crushing their lips together.

The freshman resisted the kiss, struggling to push his brother's hand off of his waist. Lucifer responded by pinning Castiel's arms above his head. He ground his hips into his little brother, panting and moaning. The blond's lips tried to force Castiel's open, but the latter held fast. He did not want this. He tried to yank his arms from Lucifer's grasp, but couldn't. The older Novak brother was livid at his younger brother's lack of response. He pulled away a few centimeters and said, "Come on, Cassie. Don't you love me? I know I love you. Let me show you how much I love you." He dug his fingernail's into Castiel's arms, drawing blood.

"Stop!" Castiel cried, shaking violently. "Leave me alone!"

Lucifer sneered at him. "Well, I could do that… But then I'd have to show someone else how much I love you… Someone who's kissed you… Now, who could that be?" he mused, his voice sarcastic.

Castiel glared at his brother through tears. "Don't you dare hurt Dean."

Lucifer grinned, a glint in his eyes signaling that he had an idea. "Dean Winchester. Of course. Would you rather me fuck you deep and good, make your virgin hole bleed, or fuck _him_ into an unrecognizable, bloody mess? Maybe torture him to death? Which would you rather like me to do?" he asked, pressing his body flush against Castiel's.

Castiel sagged. He did not want this. Why was his brother do this to him? He should not be forced into having sex with his brother. But Dean didn't do anything wrong. He couldn't be selfish and force his fate onto his friend… his boyfriend. "Don't hurt Dean," he whispered, his eyes closed, his heart heavy.

He could practically hear his older brother's grin of triumph. "Open your eyes, Cassie." Castiel complied, opening his eyes. Lucifer released his hold on the freshman's arms. "Good. Now, take off your trench coat." The brunette hesitated, his fingers ghosting over the edge of his coat. "Now," Lucifer ordered.

Castiel took a deep breath, let it out, and then took off his trench coat. He shivered as his brother trailed his fingers up his arms, giving him goosebumps. Lucifer misread the freshman's response as desire, when really it was fear and dread. He smirked. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" When Castiel didn't reply, the blond sighed. "Take off the rest of your shirts, but leave the tie." He watched as his little brother undid his shirt, careful to leave the tie on. He slid out of his tank top, shivering as the cold hit his battered torso. Lucifer gazed at the sickly bruises and cuts on the human before him, his eyes filled with awe. "You are so beautiful, Castiel," he said, running his hands along his brother's chest. Lucifer grabbed Castiel's wrist and pulled him into a hug. "I'm going to show you what love between two men feel like. It will hurt, but better you than Dean, right? Follow me." He grabbed the freshman's tie and used it as a leash, dragging his brother to his bedroom, two sets of footsteps echoing in the empty hallways.

 _Pat_ pat _pat_ pat _pat_ pat _pat_ pat _._

Castiel was pushed into his older brothers' bedroom. Lucifer and Michael were twins, both in their sophomore year of Lawrence Community College. There were two beds in the room. The blond led him to the one farthest from the door. Once they reached the edge of the bed, Lucifer said, "Kneel on the floor."

Castiel kneeled, his mouth level with Lucifer's straining zipper. He looked up at his brother, fear turning into tears as he met his brother's gaze. He knew what he had to do. With shaking fingers, he unzipped his brother's jeans, undoing the button, before he pulled them down. He saw the hard form of his brother's penis straining against the fabric of his boxers. His eyes pleading, he looked up at Lucifer one last time, silently asking if he could leave. _It's you or it's Dean,_ Lucifer's voice whispered through his head. The freshman turned his thoughts back to the task at hand. What was he supposed to do?

"The wetter you get my cock, the less it will hurt when I put it in your ass hole," Lucifer said. "And the more pleasure it will give me."

"I don't know what to do," Castiel whimpered, hoping that would save him from having to do this.

Lucifer found that very angering. "Of course you don't," he growled, "You basically swallow it as much as you can, and then you suck. Easy. Get on with it."

Castiel grimaced. His fingers trailed along the top of his brother's boxers. He hesitated for a few moments too long. Lucifer let out a guttural growl. The freshman squeaked in fear and quickly pulled down the boxers. He was eye to eye with Lucifer's member. He was terrified that he was going to choke on it, because it was so thick and so long. He took a deep breath in through his nose to try to calm himself, but regretted it. He smelled dried urine and semen. Before he could change his mind, he put his mouth around Lucifer's penis, causing his brother to moan. He made it about half way down the length before he gagged, jerking his head back. The blond glared at him. Castiel quickly returned his mouth to the head, sucking it in as much as he could. His mouth slid up and down the member, occasionally using his tongue to get it wet. Lucifer thrusted in time to his brother's mouth, moaning and trembling, saying "oh fuck" and "oh my God" over and over again. The blond dug his fingernails deep into the freshman's shoulders, drawing blood. He dragged his nails along Castiel's back, reopening old wounds and adding new ones. His thrusts became sporadic. The freshman knew this meant that it was almost over, so he sucked harder and faster. Lucifer pushed his brother off of him, panting "holy shit", his eyes closed. Once he had calmed down a bit, he opened his eyes and gazed at his little brother with eyes that were dominated by his pupils.

"Didn't want to cum in your mouth. I still need to fuck your ass," Lucifer said, his voice deeper than usual and husky.

Castiel was pulled up and pushed onto the bed, his brother on top of him. Lucifer kissed him, hard. When he received no response, he grabbed his little brother's shoulders and shook him until the freshman had no choice but to respond. His head couldn't stand any more pain. He gasped in disgust when he felt a hand fondling his crotch through his pants. Lucifer took advantage of the situation and thrust his tongue into Castiel's mouth, tasting him. The elder brother moaned, "Cassie" and started squeezing his hand tighter and tighter until the freshman yelped at the pain. The brunette fought the hands trying to pulling his pants and boxers off. Those same hands punched him in the temple, fazing him just long enough for his brother to strip him naked. Lucifer forced a knee between Castiel's legs to keep them apart, pushing up into the freshman's testicles enough to be painful. The blond replaced his knee with his hands, pushing the younger teenager's legs apart as far as they would go. Castiel managed to knee his brother in the elbow, causing him to let go of his legs. Castiel tried to scramble off of the bed, but was flipped onto his stomach and pinned there.

"This is what homosexual love feels like, Castiel. Don't you want to know what that feels like, before you make a fool of yourself in front of that pathetic little boyfriend of yours? Or would you rather me make a fool out of Deanie? I can do that, Cassie, if you keep fighting me. I'm just trying to teach you a lesson," Lucifer hissed. Castiel stopped his struggling, instead lying still but tensed. "Good boy, Cassie," he whispered, spreading his brother's buttocks. "For your own sake, I hope you got my dick nice and wet."

Castiel felt a sharp, burning pain in his anus as something big was pushed in. He let out a shriek of pain which drowned out Lucifer's moan of pleasure. Tears formed in his eyes, but he refused to let his brother see him cry. He felt his brother start moving, _pat pat pat pat_ , pulling out completely and pushing in quickly and forcefully, the slap of flesh against flesh, _patpatpatpat,_ Lucifer's moans, and Castiel's gasps of pain and dismay filling the room. The freshman felt fingernails scraping away the skin on his back. He felt the blood oozing out of the gouges. He felt his brother's tongue licking up the blood and moaning in ecstasy, thrusting his hips faster and faster, _patpatpatpat,_ until Castiel had to use his hands to keep the headboard of Lucifer's bed from slamming into his skull repeatedly. He felt teeth bite into the flesh on his shoulder and he screamed. The sharp, aching pain increased when his brother bit down, harder and harder, until he felt faint from the pain he was feeling throughout his entire body, and from the amount of blood he had lost. Lucifer lapped up the offending red liquid as fast as he could, matching his pace to the strokes of his tongue on Castiel's bleeding shoulder. _Pat pat pat pat patpatpatpatpatpat pat pat pat pat patpatpatpatpatpat pat pat patpatpatpat._

Lucifer suddenly halted his movements, pulling out of his little brother. Castiel didn't dare look over his shoulder, knowing he would be punished even more severely if he did. He screeched in surprise when he felt a hand digging into his wounded shoulder. He pulled onto his brother's lap and pushed against the headboard, his brother's knees in between his own. He cried out when he felt Lucifer's penis forcefully enter him again and thrust in and out even quicker than before. _Patpatpatpatpatpat._ Castiel felt his brother's fingers digging into his thighs. He knew he would be left with bruises. When he felt his brother pulling on his tie, he let himself cry. This was his fate. It always had been. He was brought back to life because he hadn't pleased his family enough. Or maybe he was being punished for getting his parents arrested. Castiel didn't know, and he didn't care. All he knew was that it hurt, and that he wanted it to stop, but he couldn't fight back or else Dean would be the one getting pounded into. He allowed Lucifer to tear his skin to shreds, he allowed him to suck on his shoulders and leave bruises, he allowed him to cause him the worst pain he had felt since his father had strangled him. _Patpatpatpatpat._

Lucifer's breathing quickened. His thrusts became wild and sporadic, almost desperate. _Patpatpatpat._ Castiel trembled, tears rolling down his face and mixing with the blood on his belly. His brother pushed him even harder into the wooden headboard, using it as leverage to pump in and out of Castiel as fast as he could. _Pat pat pat pat._ Lucifer's hips stuttered once, twice, three times, before his back arched and he screamed, one last thrust before hot liquid was gushing into his brother. When Lucifer pulled his penis out of him, Castiel fell down on top of him, his body too tired to hold himself up or even flee. The cum inside of him quickly turned cold as it oozed out of his anus, flecked pink and red from his blood. Lucifer kissed his wounded shoulder one last time before getting up and putting on his clothes. "This is what gay love is, Cassie. Do you really want that?" Lucifer said, staring down at Castiel. He left, leaving his brother naked, shivering, and hurt on his bed, his footsteps echoing as he walked away. _Pat pat pat pat._

Castiel sobbed. He felt extremely violated, his anus burning and stinging, the gouges and bruises all over him aching and itching, his lips swollen and sore. This was what he got for enjoying his kiss with Dean. Normally, if it was just affecting him, the freshman would stop doing whatever caused him to get punished. This was not a normal circumstance, however, because it affected his boyfriend as well. He could not let Dean suspect a thing, or else his brothers would go after him, too. He layed there for a long time, thinking about how he had failed as a human being, how he wished he had just stayed dead. He finally got up and walked to his room, ignoring the searing pain he felt whenever he took a step or bent over to pick up a stray piece of clothing.

He showered, trying to scrub the filth he felt all over him off. The water was red, then pink, then clear as the blood was washed off of his skin. Castiel was very careful with his head wound, deciding not to use shampoo as to not irritate it. He scrubbed his skin with a bar of soap as vigorously as he could without causing pain. He used a washcloth to wipe the semen and blood mixture from the inside of his thighs. The freshman stood under the spray of the water until his skin started to get all pruny, the flesh around his cuts getting all puffy and gross. He turned the water off even though he didn't feel like he'd gotten all of the filth off. He tried to step back into his pants, but the pain brought tears back to his eyes. Instead he put on loose and dark pajama bottoms and a soft, dark turtleneck sweater. He didn't need to worry about the blood showing if he accidentally tore open a cut. Castiel tucked himself into bed, sobbing into his pillow until his body, being unable to handle everything, shut down, and he fell into a fitful sleep.


End file.
